It is with no surprise at all that Lewis wakes up first. Max, young and most lively at unreasonable hours of the night, tends to sleep in more often than not. With their hectic schedules, race week after the other draining them out, Lewis tries to let him indulge his unhealthy sleeping habits as much as he can. They don’t have a race today but they do have an interview to get to, one Max wasn’t looking forward to in the slightest.
So Lewis watches, eyes fond as they trace the curves and lines of Max’s face. He appears much younger in his sleep. His beautiful eyes, mysterious like the deep ocean, hide behind pale eyelids and light lashes. His eyebrows, thick, golden and untamed frame them. There is a light brush dusting his swollen cheeks and the tips of his ears. There is a glow that emerges from deep within his skin reflecting the sunlight breaking through the curtains. Even with half of his face pressed against the pillow, his plump lips red and parted in the middle, smearing a light coat of drool on the sheet— he looks beautiful.
Lewis’s heart swells with adoration. It inflates so largely that he fears if he loved the other a hair more it would burst into tiny, unrepairable pieces.
The tips of his fingers ache to touch him, to ease the longing his heart feels for the other. Even with them flushed against each other, tangled beneath the covers, Lewis doesn’t think they could ever be close enough.
He’ll always yearn for Max.
He reaches out to cup his face, gentle fingers stroking the soft skin there. Max breathes out a puff of air and groans in protest at the touch. Still, he doesn’t move away. Instead, he buries himself against Lewis’s bare chest, drinking in his warmth.
The older chuckles, his heart singing in adoration.
“Come on, love.” He coaxes, running a hand through Max’s hair. “We have to head out for the interview in about an hour.” He says, his voice low and tender. When that doesn’t seem tempting enough to guide him into consciousness, Lewis smiles and adds “I ordered room service, a plate full of juicy bacon should be here any minute now.”
“I hate you,” Max mumbles against his skin, the smile he tries to hide there giving him away.
“I love you too,” Lewis replies, sealing the declaration with a feather-light kiss on the man’s forehead.
Although it pains him too, he shuffles away, tearing Max from him. The younger’s whines of disapproval are almost enough to presway him into pulling him back into his embrace, but his sense of responsibility stands in the way. He props himself up with a hand and looks down at Max, admiring how domestic his puffy eyes and swollen cheeks make him look.
“Wash your face and brush your teeth before they bring breakfast up.” He instructs, tapping Max’s forehead repeatedly when the younger closes his eyes, seemingly trying to catch an extra minute or two of sleep.
“Yes, father," he grumbles in response, teasing Lewis for his parent-like behavior.
Lewis smiles at the jab, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He leans forward enough to whisper in the younger man’s ears. “If you do it quick enough, I’ll think about joining you in the shower.” he offers, his breath hot and humid as it brushes against Max’s ear shell.
“Daddy,” Max whines breathlessly, his body arching towards Lewis. His hungry hands reach desperately for him, wanting what he’s being promised now. Lewis, however, thinks differently and turns out of reach, getting out of bed in the process. The glare of betrayal Max sends him draws a laugh out of him and the sound of it is enough to ease it into a loving gaze.
“ Kom op ,” Lewis mutters the Dutch words effortlessly, growing familiar with the language over the years. He reaches out and ruffles Max’s hair, wincing when the younger swats his hands away. “ Kom op ,” he echoes, more firmly now.
Max pouts at him for good measure, but gets up nevertheless. He leans into Lewis and steals a kiss off of his lips and despite the morning breath they both have and the dried drool around the younger’s lips, Lewis allows it. Max’s blue eyes are almost electric when they pull apart, charged with love and sinful desires. It sends a shiver down Lewis’s spine and the older watches, dazed, as he walks away, the sight of his retreating form painful to resist.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.
The world doesn’t offer him enough time to regret not devouring his boyfriend when he had the chance, instead it chooses that moment to have their breakfast delivered. There is a knock at the door and a call of ‘ room service ’ is heard over it. Lewis huffs and reaches for the nearest shirt to put on. Considering how big it is on him, he knows it belongs to Max.
The realization warms his heart.
He opens the door with a smile, welcoming the traditional American breakfast of eggs, sausages and bacon into the room. Thankfully, the young waiter that rolls the tray table in doesn’t recognise him, or if he does, he doesn’t show it. He simply walks in, sets the table and leaves with a polite smile that Lewis returns.
Max emerges from the bathroom as he closes the door, face and teeth freshly cleaned. He pauses for a second once he looks at Lewis then grumbles under his breath, no doubt cursing the interview again. For a moment, Lewis doesn’t understand what prompts it this time but when Max pulls him closer by his T-shirt and kisses him feverishly he remembers he’s wearing his clothes.
God , he wishes they could spend the day in bed instead.
“Eat,” Lewis whispers against the younger’s lips, hands flat on his warm chest.
Max pulls him closer and deepens the kiss. His tongue is wet and warm as it traces the inside of his mouth.
“The food,” he adds, smiling into the kiss.
Max grunts but pulls away. His feet drag beneath him as he makes his way to the table. Looking at him, face flushed and lips pulsing with desire, Lewis’s only thought is— it’s going to be a long day .
It takes two hours for him to be proven right.
He ended up joining Max for his shower, something they both expected. What they weren’t counting on, however, is losing track of time. He had, once again, underestimated how tempting his boyfriend could be. That and Max’s lack of desire to appear on the talk show. Indulging their lust for one another resulted in them having to rush through everything else. It didn’t help that they’re yet to make their relationship official. Because of that and the rising tension in their fight for the championship, they were driven to the location of the filming separately. And due to LA’s unpredictable traffic, Max ended up arriving first. By the time Lewis did, the Dutchman was thoroughly annoyed with the whole thing and much rather be anywhere else.
Ellen does nothing to ease it with her blunt sense of humor and masked rudeness. Lewis tries his best to lighten the mood and make sure everything runs as smoothly as possible, especially for Max but there is only so much he can do.
“We finally decided on the challenge we’re going to do.” She says, all smiles and cheerful.
When they were both approached with an offer to appear on Ellen for an exclusive interview between the current leaders of the championship, they were told that their appearance would include an activity of some sort to raise money for charity. Which is why Lewis aggread to be on the show after having done it a long time ago. Max, on the other hand, having no patience for interviews and favoring his privacy was more reluctant about his appearance. However, seeing how much Lewis wanted to do it, he of course agreed as well.
After giving the green light to their management, they were told they would play a game to raise money and that was the last they heard of it.
“We’re playing Taste Buds,” she informs. “I’ll introduce you both and then explain the game. We’ll play a couple of rounds before starting the interview.”
“Great,” Lewis nods along, returning her polite smile.
Next to him, Max only grunts in response. He’s been communicating in sounds since they got here, taking advantage of his foreign nationality and feigning not understanding English well. Thankfully, Ellen doesn’t seem to mind it, content with doing all the talking with Lewis.
She leaves shortly after that, heading out to introduce them to the audience.
“I don’t like her,” Max mutters as soon as she’s out of earshot.
“You don’t like anyone.” Lewis points out, chuckling.
“That’s not true,” he hums.
The emotions Lewis finds in his eyes make the blood rush to his face and his cheeks color. He’s saved from having to comment on it when Ellen says their names and the staff signal for them to go in.
Differently from other guests, they don’t take the stairs and head for the couch. Instead, a screen is lifted to reveal them. The crowd cheers at the sight of them, jumping and clapping excitedly. Lewis waves at them with similar enthusiasm and notes, with satisfaction, that Max does the same.
Ellen stands ahead of them, facing the audience. There are two tables in front of her, one to her right and the other to her left. She gestures for them to each stand behind one. Lewis takes the closest to him which is the one to her left and Max takes the right one.
The crowd takes a moment to settle. Lewis is pleased to observe that the number of women in the audience is equal, if not more than the number of men present.
“The two of you are going to be blindfolded,” the talk show hostess says.
At the mention of it, Lewis picks up the blindfold set in front of him. He pulls open the straps at the back and flicks the blindfold as he would a whip, snickering as he does.
“And when I say go, one of you will bend over to taste the food on the plate in front of you. Then you’ll describe what you’re eating to the other person–” Ellen pauses, eyeing Lewis with an amused glint in her eyes. “You know how to work a blindfold, don’t you?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him expectedly.
“Oh my god.” Max groans next to him, shaking his head and picking up his own blindfold.
“Alright.” Ellen chuckles, pretending not to see the smug expression her comment paints on Lewis’s face. “You cannot use the name of the food, or use your hands.” she explains, reading from the monitor right next to the camera.
“Max, are you following?” Lewis asks, leaning forward so he can look over Ellen, who stands between them, at the younger.
“Yeah.” Max nodes, offering him a reassuring smile. “No hands, no name.” he repeats with a shrug, his disinterest in the game obvious as day.
“Once your teammate guesses what you’re eating, you’ll hear this—” Ellen points to the ceiling and a ding sounds through the studio. “And then it’ll be their turn. For every item that you guys guessed correctly, our friends at Shutterfly will donate $1,000 to Education Africa.”
“Whooo!” Lewis cheers with the audience, smiling brightly at the camera.
“Put your blindfolds on.” The hostess instructs, gesturing for them to put them on.
“What if in fact I didn’t know how to operate it?” Lewis asks as he fixes his on. The audience giggles at his comment, some whistling at him suggestively and it deepens the smile on his face.
“You do.” Max says, chuckling, not missing a beat. As the words leave his mouth, he freezes just for a second, realizing what he just said and what it implies. The audience ahhs and he winces, catching Lewis’s sympathetic eyes.
“Oh, is that so?” Ellen wonders, glad to latch onto the bait Max accidently offered her. “And how do you know that, Max?” she presses, looking awfully pleased with herself.
“I don’t.” Max says, his ocean blue eyes narrowing at her, displeased with her tactics. “I just know it’s not that difficult to put on. I mean look at it–” he puts his on with ease, showing her. “Anyone can do it.” he points out nonchalantly.
“I feel like there is more to this but I’ll let it slide.” She says, unwilling to let it go.
Max can’t see her with his eyes covered, but his lack of vision doesn’t stop him from feeling her eyes on him. He licks his teeth, clicking them in the process and that she picks up on.
“Alright,” she claps her hand, moving on from the subject. “Put them real tight so you can’t see nothing.”
“I can’t see nothing.” Lewis echoes cheerfully, effectively getting rid of the bits of awkwardness that linger in the air.
“Good, no cheating.” She says.
“Tell that to him.” Lewis scoffs, softening the jab with a good natured chuckle.
“I don’t cheat!” Max whines, stomping his feet just a tiny bit— it has everyone laughing. Under the blindfold, his cheeks redden a bit. He’s glad he has his eyes covered, otherwise he doesn’t know where he would look.
“Now, now boys. No fighting.” Ellen chides jokingly, patting them both on the shoulders. “Who would like to go first?” she asks.
“I’ll go.” Max raises his hand, saying as he was told.
“Okay Max,” she turns to face him, reaching out to guide him closer to the table. “Hands behind your back and bend slightly so you can get some of that in your mou–”
“Ellen!” Lewis laughs in surprise, loud and booming. “Do you two need a room or something?” He snorts, chuckling dryly. Everyone laughs with him, completely missing the passive aggressive tone lacing his voice.
Max does, however, and his toes curl at the sound of it.
“Oh shut up.” Max says, rolling his eyes under the blindfold, faking a laugh of his own.
There is a part of him, small and greedy, that wishes Lewis’s eyes weren’t covered right now. He aches to see the look in his boyfriend’s eyes once he realizes that in order to play the game, Ellen has to touch him.
“Alright then,” Ellen says, interrupting whatever Lewis was planning to say in response. Her hand on Max’s back pushes down the tiniest bit, signaling him to start bending. “Taste this and describe it to Lewis," she instructs, holding up a plate filled with oatmeal.
“Where is it?” Max wonders. He sticks his tongue out to catch whatever she was trying to feed him but even with that, his mouth doesn’t come in contact with the food.
The crowd snickers and so does Ellen. Max knows, from the way she sounds like she’s trying to hold her laughter back, that he must look quite ridiculous.
“A little further down, you have to bend more.” She tells him, holding the plate further up so he could reach it easier.
A whistle is heard and Max immediately recognizes it as Lewis’s.
“Fuck you.” Max scowls, snapping in the older man’s direction.
To get them started, Ellen guides the plate to Max’s face instead.
“Oh,” he says in surprise, when his mouth makes contact with the contents of the plate.
“We’re on the clock.” Lewis reminds, jumping in his place, eager to raise money for charity. “Let’s raise some money, baby.” He cheers.
“It tastes weird,” Max comments, talking with his mouth full. He scowls at the taste, resisting spitting it out. “What is that?” He wonders, his eyebrows coming together in concentration.
“I don’t know,” Lewis laughs, smiling like a fool. “You’re supposed to tell me.”
“Ahh, a lentil loaf of some sort. I don’t know, it tastes like paper to me. Very weird texture, umm.…” Max trails off, wrecking his brains to connect the dots. He’s tasted it before, he remembers that but can’t recall what it's called. "Oh, no wait.” He cries out, his eyes widening under the blindfold. “It’s oatmeal!” He says, smiling now that he has figured it out. "Dry, dry oatmeal!”
“Hold on, hold on.” Lewis says. He's laughing so hard he’s leaning on the table for support. “Maxy, Jesus man.” He snorts, barely able to talk between laughs “I’m supposed to guess it’s name. Remember, geen handen , geen naam . You can say we eat it for breakfast or the name of that popular brand that sells them. What is it called? Ahhh, Bob’s Red Mill!”
“Yeah.” Ellen nods along, barely containing her own laughter.
“And then I say oatmeal." Lewis explains. Even though he’s laughing, he doesn’t say it maliciously or mockingly. No, he’s gentle when he, once more, clarifies the rules.
“The whole point is that you don’t say it, he says it.” Ellen says.
That, Max finds, is quite mocking.
“Okay, sorry.” he mumbles, his face heating in embarrassment. “I got excited.”
“He’s very competitive.” Lewis says in excuse, as though sensing Max’s embarrassment from where he stands. “I bet it bugged him not knowing what it was, he’ll get the hang of it.” He adds and it shows just how well he knows the younger.
“Let’s hope he does.” Ellen snickers, patting Max on the back before moving on to Lewis. “It’s your turn now Lewis," she says, holding the plate up just like she did for Max. “You know how to play the game.”
Lewis opens his mouth to say something, his tongue burning to defend his boyfriend and call out the unnecessary rudeness the hostess is showing him. But the faded laugh of the audience reminds him that they’re on national television.
He bites the inside of his cheeks instead.
“Lean down.” Ellen instructs, placing a hand on his shoulders to guide him.
Lewis does and dives face first into the plate and its contents. He yelps at the cold substance that now covers his nose and most of his lower face. It has a saucy consistency, liquidy yet not runny. He pokes his tongue out and tastes it.
It’s ketchup.
“Okay, you know this Max.” He reassures, “You put it on hot dogs, hamburgers and chips.”
“Mustard!” He yells out.
“Oh my god, Maxy!” Lewis cries, laughing once more.“Who puts mustard on chips?” he asks.
“I like mustard!” he insists, giggling a little himself.
He doesn’t.
“That’s not right,” Ellen says, “try again.”
Max frowns and thinks about it. It only takes him a moment to catch on,“Oh,” he says, feeling silly for not getting it right the first time. “Ketchup!”
“Okay, good. You said it.” Ellen says, tapping him on the shoulder. The bell rings, counting it as a point. “Come on, it’s your turn again. Don’t say the name of the food, got it?”
“No hands, no name.” Max repeats, growing agitated with the way she’s treating him. “ I got it.”
“Alright, here you go.”
Max leans forward, tongue out and ready to catch what she’s trying to feed him. Something sticks to it and he guides it to his mouth. It crunches when he chews it and it tastes good. He quickly recognizes it. Still, he takes another one into his mouth.
“Take your time.” Lewis teases.
“Hmm, it’s crunchy.” He points out, “A snack, Lando loves these. They’re cheesy and shaped like a worm, no–” he pauses, thinking to himself. “Like big fingers.”
“Macaroni and cheese?” Lewis wonders, saying the first thing that comes to mind.
“No, it’s crunchy.” Max reminds him. He turns to look in Lewis’s direction and frowns, as though this way the older would be able to feel it. “ I told you, it’s a snack.” He repeats.
“Walkers?” Lewis offers.
“No, no. The cheese part is in the name.”
“Cheez-its?” He tries again.
“No, not that.” Max shakes his head, getting frustrated. “We got those on our way to Venice, remember?” he asks. “We drove there after Monza.”
“I don’t remember what it is.” Lewis confesses, frowning in concentration.
After their race in Monza, they had rented a car and drove to Venice, a city Max had always wanted to visit but never had the chance to. It was a nice trip, one they both needed after such a demanding week. They spent the drive stuffing their faces and singing along to the radio, Formula One long behind them. That day, they were just Max and Lewis, two boyfriends enjoying each other’s company.
“Lewis, focus.” Max snaps. “On our trip to Venice, we got to eat some crappy food on the way. We had chips— crisps. It’s the kind that Lando likes.”
“We got crisps, I remember that.”
“Yeah,” he nods, “but what kind is the best kind?” he asks, emphasizing best.
“Walkers?” Lewis repeats hesitantly.
“What the hell are Walkers?” Max yells, “I told you, they look like fingers— fat chubby fingers!”
“Cheez-its, I said Cheez-its.” Lewis murmurs, running a hand through his braids. “Is that not it?”
“They’re not Cheez-its.” Ellen whezeez between laughs, face red and eyes teary from how hard she’s laughing.
“I want a divorce!” Max demands, banging the table in front of him.
“But you two aren’t married.” Ellen snickers.
“We never will at this rate," he grumbles in response.
“I wasn’t aware marriage between you two is a possibility.” Ellen comments, and Max is grateful he can’t see her. “Is there something you would like to share with the audience, Max?”
“Yes,” he nods. “I hate this game.”
“That’s no–”
“Are they not Cheez-its?” Lewis asks again, interrupting her. They’ve never talked about marriage before, it’s only been a year, it felt too soon to bring up such a big commitment. But to hear Max, the more reserved of the two, mention it makes his heart swell with adoration.
“They look like fingers!” Max hisses.
“They look like fingers and they're made of cheese?” Lewis says, repeating the clues the younger gave him.
“Yes, come on mate.” He presses, growing impatient.
“String cheese!” he exclaims.
“They’re crunchy, and they look like fingers and they have a curve just like a cashew but they’re not a cashew.”
“Cashews?” Lewis frowns, the comparison to the nut throwing him off.
“They’re bright orange and there’s a big tiger on the logo. It’s the mascot I think.” Max describes, his voice growing strained, the more frustrated he gets. “Come on Lewis, it's very famous brand.”
“A big what?” he questions.
“Tiger…” Max trails off.
“No,” Ellen shakes her head, tears running down her face as she laughs.
“Is he not a tiger?” Max asks, confused.
“No, the other one.” she supplies, offering him a hint.
“He’s a cheetah!” he yells, remembering the name of the animal.
“Oh, Cheetos!”
“Oh thank God!" Ellen cries, giggling. The audience erupts with laughter as well and Max squirms in his place. He smiles good-naturally, it is funny, and if it was just him and his friends he would laugh just as hard as everyone else. But something about being blindfolded in the presence of strangers and them laughing at him makes him feel uncomfortable.
“There are a million things I would have described that as and you choose cashews and fingers?” Lewis asks, exasperated.
“Let’s see how well you do next, then.” Max shoots back.
“You could’ve said Chester the ch—” the rest of his argument dies when something is shoved into his mouth. “What, what, what?” he stutters, confused. He accepts the food into his mouth and chews, instantly recognising it.“I get these every time we go to–” he’s chewing as he speaks so what’s left of his sentence is hardly audible.
“What?” Max asks.
“One squirt of butter.” Lewis ends the sentence, only the last bit of it comprehensible.
“Wh– oh, popcorn!” He yells, bouncing in his place.
“Yes!” Lewis cries, clapping his hands.
“He’s terrific at this!” Ellen gushes, impressed. “Alright Max, back to you.”
“Oh, it’s rabbit food!” he says as soon as he takes a bite out of it.
“Carrots?” Lewis guesses.
“No, it’s green and leafy.”
“Hay?” he offers, sounding confused.
“No, no.” Max says, “You put it in salads.”
“Kale?”
“No, the normal one," he insists, whining.
“Oh, ahh you mean lettuce?” Lewis wonders.
“Yes!” Max nods even though Lewis can’t see him.
“How is that the “normal one”?” he asks.
“No one likes kale, Lewis.” Max groans, having had this conversation a million times already. It’s an ongoing debate between them, one that reopens every time his boyfriend tries to make him eat a salad.
“I do.” He says, sounding offended.
“You’re not normal.” Max retorts and laughs when he hears the gasp his boyfriend lets out.
The timer goes off in that instant, and the buzzing sound it lets out is loud and obnoxious. Max winces at the loud noise and covers his ears. But sighs in relief when the stupid game comes to an end.
“No we’re not stopping this game,” Ellen yells, voice horse from laughing. It takes all of his willpower to stop himself from scowling at her, wherever she was. “Keep going!” She moves to Lewis and once more holds the plate close to his mouth.
“What the hell is– oh. Umm, chimpanzees eat it!” He says, spitting out the banana peel he bit. “It grows on a tree, it’s yellow.”
“Eucalyptus!” Max yells, happy to use the new word he learnt watching National Geographic.
“Oh my god.” Ellen laughs, loud and squeaky.
“Oh, no. Bananas!” Max quickly corrects himself.
"Yes," Ellen says, followed by a ding.
“Oh,” Max breathes out in surprise when a plate is shoved in his face. He licks his lips, tasting it. “Mmm,” he hums in approval, liking the taste of it.
“It makes you take a nap?” Lewis asks, snickering.
“No, it’s very good. It has chocolate in it and yogurt-like consistency.” He explains, struggling with his words.
“Yogurt?” Lewis echos, confused.
“Yeah, it’s a nice snack. I used to get it as a treat when I was a kid.”
“You still are.” Lewis snorts, making the audience laugh with him.
“Focus!” Max sneered, his cheeks coloring.
“Oh ummm,” he frowns, wrecking his brain for an answer. “I don’t know.”
“It’s chocolate flavor and it’s mushy.” Max repeats, slower this time.
“Pudding?” he asks.
“Yes!” Max cheers.
“Alright, here.” Ellen says, guiding Lewis to the plate in front of him.
“Okay, it’s got seeds in it. It’s huge and green on the outside but on the inside it’s pink.”
“What?”
“It’s a fruit!” Lewis adds.
“Watermelon.” Max says immediately.
“Okay we have time for one last one,” She says, “here you go Max.”
“Okay, umm.” He hums, chewing. “You put these in a martini.”
“Olives!” Lewis exclaims.
“Yes!” Max laughs, clapping along with the crowd. He takes off his blindfold and grins at Lewis, who does the same.
"All right, that was the game. You both did so well, we’re going to round it up to $10,000. Shutterfly cares about education in Africa and will make a donation in that amount to Education Africa, your charity of choice!” Ellen says, handing them the large check the staff gives her. “Oh my god, that was hilarious. Stay tuned after the break, we will be back with Max and Lewis to talk about Formula One and what it’s like to be a driver!” She cries, cheering along with the audience.
It takes them a moment to quiet down, but they do eventually. Lewis waves at them and Max does the same, smiling at the genuine excitement the crow exhibits at their presence. The staff signals the start of the commercial break and Ellen turns to face them.
“You guys, that was amazing!” she gushes, pleased with their performance. “I think that was the best one we’ve done yet.”
“Thank you,” Lewis says, following behind her as she guides them to the sitting area. “It was a lot of fun to play and for a good cause too.”
“Are you two fine with sharing a couch or would you rather have separate ones?” she asks, gesturing to the current seating arrangement.
Max looks at it, it's a loveseat, made to fit the both of them comfortably.
“I don’t mind as it is.” Lewis says. They both turn to look at Max questioningly.
“It’s just a seat.” he shrugs, not seeing why it’s such a big deal.
Ellen nods and they all take a seat. The staff comes and offers them drinks and Max sips on it just so he doesn’t have to talk to Ellen. Lewis, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind talking to her. He indulges her with small talk, remembering his appearance on the show all those years back and how much has happened since then. Ellen makes to include him in the conversation but Max is saved from having to suffer through it when one of the producers tells her they have 5 seconds before they’re live. Someone does a countdown, he can’t see who with all these set lights flashing brightly.
“And we’re back with Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton."
The crowd, as if on cue, cheers loudly.
“For those who don’t know Formula One, why don’t you explain what that is to them?” she starts.
“Well, how can I say this?” Lewis wonders, scratching at his beard. “F 1 is the highest class of international auto racing, the elite sport, if I may.” he explains, looking at Max for help.
“Basically, you have 10 teams and 20 drivers; 2 for each team. We travel all around the world racing very fast cars and earning points to win the championship.” He elaborates.
“It’s similar to Nascars, then?” She offers.
“No,” Max snorts, shaking his head. Next to him, Lewis laughs as well. “It’s very different. No hate to the sport, I think it’s amazing but Formula One is more advanced.”
“How come?” Ellen wonders.
“F1 cars are much faster, much more tricky to drive, and far more sophisticated— it’s not the same.” Lewis says, “A lot of people make the comparison simply based on the fact that, at the end, we’re just racing cars. But that is the same as saying basketball and baseball are inherently the same sport just because the players throw a ball around. We have different rules, strategies and even different cars.”
“I see, so you go around different countries and you race to earn points.” She says, repeating what Max said. “Who’s winning so far?” she asks, looking between the two.
“I am,” Max replies, pride lacing his voice.
Lewis smiles and bumps their shoulders together, silently telling him he’s proud of him too.
“By how much?” Ellen wonders.
“How many points do you have?” Max asks, frowning.
“I have 250.5 points and you have 287.5.” Lewis reminds him.
“So that’s…” the tiles off, squinting as he does the math. “37 points?”
“Yeah, I think.” Lewis nods.
“And that’s not considered a lot, right?”
“Yeah, I can easily catch up to him.” He says.
"You wish," Max snorts, laughing as the older punches him in the arm.
“My brother-in-law is a die-hard Formula One fan and he said something the other day and I want you to clarify it.” She says, glancing at her cards briefly. “So according to him, each team has a specific circuit?”
“Sort of,” Lewis says.
“I don’t–” Max starts, not understanding what she means. He doesn’t have to finish the question though, because Lewis knows exactly what he needs.
“She means bekend om .” He explains.
“Oh,” Max breathes out. “Yeah, each team has a track they’re good at that it sorta becomes theirs. Red Bull is known for the one in Austria, for example.”
“It’s owned by Red Bull," Lewis points out.
“Shut up,” Max shushes.
The audience laughs
“And the one in Austin?” Ellen wonders.
“Mercedes is known for that one.” Lewis replies.
“But you won,” she says, pointing to Max.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Being known for a track or having the most suitable car for it doesn’t guarantee your win. There are a lot of things that come into play.”
“Exactly,” Lewis agrees. “The strategy is really critical. As a team, we try to put together a solid strategy and do our best to get the outcomes we want. But you never truly know what happens during the race, you have 20 drivers on the track all fighting for the first spot. The undercut worked well in Red Bull’s favor and they had the pace to back it up. I tried to catch up to him in the last few laps but it just wasn’t going to happen.”
“So who do you think is going to win this season?” She asks.
“I don’t know,” Max says, sharing a look with Lewis. It's a difficult subject to talk about, especially since they’re dating now. As much as he wants the championship for himself, he can’t genuinely say he doesn’t want Lewis to win it as well. He wants that for his boyfriend, he wants to see him break records and achieve his dream. Just as equally as he wants the same for himself.
“I think it’s going to be a close call till the end.” Lewis confesses. “All this time we’ve been within each other’s reach. I think that will continue on until the end.”
“Yeah,” Max nods. “Whichever one of us wins, he’s gonna deserve it.”
“We’ve both worked hard for it.” he agrees, patting Max’s thighs before remembering himself.
“And you both are doing amazing.” She compliments, her smile widening when the crowd cheers in agreement. “I’m sure this comes as a surprise to many but you two seem to be close.”
“Why would it be a surprise?” Max asks, feeling defensive.
“We’re very capable of maintaining a good relationship outside of the championship.” Lewis says.
“Most of the drivers are pretty close, outside of the cars we’re all good friends,” Max adds, nodding along.
“Like you and Daniel?” Ellen asks.
“I wouldn't compare my relationship with Daniel to the rest of the grid.” Max replies, not missing the way Lewis tenses next to him. His boyfriend has always been sensitive about the Australian driver.
“And why is that?” She wonders, pressing for more.
“He was my first teammate and we’ve shared a lot of good and bad moments with each other— we’ve been through it all. I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but I owe a lot of my maturity and development as a driver to him. I was an asshole, still am, so I pushed him a lot and didn’t know how to choose my beatles and he pushed me back. We were each other’s ally and worst enemy. Which is why I think we make such good friends.” He elaborates.
“But not good teammates?”
“It’s difficult to tell.” Max sighs, shaking his head.
“What about your relationship with Max?” She asks Lewis, arching a curious eyebrow at him.
“It’s a good one, we pose a challenge to one another on the grid but outside of it, I think we can be pretty civil with one another.” Lewis provides, sharing a look with the younger.
“I can see that,” Ellen says, mischief gleaming in her eyes. “What is it you said Max, you want a divorce?" she’s smirking, looking awfully pleased with herself.
Max hates it.
“And?” he asks.
“Why don’t you elaborate on that, I’m sure everyone here would like to know.”
“You’re a comedian, yes?” Max wonders, frowning at her. “You should be familiar with a joke.”
Lewis snorts in surprise next to him and the audience erupts in a mixture of ahh’s and oh's.
“Yet I get the feeling that there is more to it than just a joke.” She presses, unwilling to let it go.
“Yeah, because we’re so in love and we’re planning to get married.” He says, sarcastically, trying to mock her. But his heart still skips a beat at the idea of being married to Lewis and Max hopes his cheeks don't turn red and betray him.
“You never know,” she says.
“You never know,” Lewis echoes in a voice so low, only Max is able to hear him.